A Jagged Road

Life is a long dusty road,
We all know it in our being,
It is a foregone conclusion,
Built to test and vex,
Winding and windswept,
But it’s a road of jagged nails,
Bent and mismatched by travelers before you,
Karmic spiderwebs and societal roadblocks,

We walk it in agony,
Our boots split and feet skewered,
Each step forcing out more moans of pain,
Yet we march on,
With a pace set by our heartbeats,
Ashen-faced yet galvanized,
This serrated path cannot stop us though,
Nothing can stop us,

The end of this road is a cruel joke to some,
Our reward for our torment,
I fear there is naught but a red sun,
And a doting incinerator at the end,
Yet we march on,
Life trundles on,
Nails cannot break our spirits.

Work Is Life

Such childhood dreams I remember,
Of artwork and vividity,
Smiles were the way,
But then the conveyer belt fired up,
Careening me through a decided life,

It appears to this dreary soul,
That a lifes worth,
Such as it is,
Is merely based upon ones employment,
Dollar and stirling signs,

To contribute is just of course,
But life is not purely about what you can give,
In terms of finance,
We should follow Euphrosyne,
Not remain serfs to Plutus,

You are what you earn,
Does a bad back,
And a full pension,
Mean a life fulfilled?
Should respect be dependent on vocation?

We live to work,
And work to live,
But what about the end?
Will I too have to build my coffin?
Dig my own grave?

The Pier

Life is a rusty pier,
Ruined by the eons,
With a meat grinder at the end,
A slaughterhouse on the river styx,
Bladed rollers slavering for gore,
Put there by a deific butcher,
The railings are strewn with warnings,
Attempting to mitigate our doom,
Yet they seem to be in languages,
Unknown to us,
Tongues of hope and diligence,

The wave below mock us,
Hissing jeers,
And throwing insults of mist,
The sea knows all as they say,
We’re given birth at the beginning,
In blood and pain,
Tagged with an expiration date,
Only to traverse this pier,
Towards further agony,
Further despair,
Meat for the industrial hunger,

More meat,
And more,
Ad infinitum.

Grim Morning

So I awake to the pain of the sun,
No reaper this time,
Not this time,
Another day,
Another dud,
Sleep was death without the commitment,
But I’m a dedicated soul,

So lets rise from this silk crypt,
The corpse rebels,
But enough straining gets it going,
Disquiet at the breakfast table,
A smoke or three,
Some whisky in my cornflakes,
The sun keeps burning,

Lets see what jokes god can pull today,
Daylight is oppressive now,
Longing for lightning or comet,
To the salt mine,
Got to win that cheese to prolong the punishment,
Hip flask break time,
Turn the spine and arms to putty,

Longing for my noncommittal death,
Yearning for my mausoleum,
Both tonight and at the finale.

Nihilism

Let me die,
Bleed out or succumb to plague,
Do not mourn for me,
Scatter me and my memories to obscurity.

Forgive me if you must,
But certainly forget me,
Reduce me to naught but ash,
Do not start a tears life in my stead.

I shall not mourn the passing of this world,
It is and was nothing to me.

Life is a Chimera

I am a monster,
My life is a monster,
It’s an abomination,
A terrible abhorrent thing,
Crafted by unseen hands.

It’s made up of countless parts,
Taken and pried from all over,
Stolen and dug up,
Created and fashioned,
Built and summoned.

The skin is scaly and furry both,
Parts of this beast are grim,
While others are joyful,
Run your hand across its form,
And you will feel all of lifes challenges and opportunities.

There are fangs of bittersweet love,
Talons of rage unyielding,
Tentacles of greed,
Reptilian eyes of malicious intent,
A forked tongue of deceit.

Soft fur of contentment,
Muscles of physical potential,
A mane of experience,
A pulsing heart of childhood memories,
A sirens voice.

Like a puzzle of mismatched pieces,
Forced together,
A chimera,
A beast of many elements,
A creature built by each of us.

My life is a creature,
All of our lives are creatures.

Always

My life,
Hardship, always for me.

Gratitude, always for another.

Restriction, always for me.

Freedom, always for another.

Obscurity, always for me.

Fame, always for another.

Envy, always for me.

Love, always for another.

Unsightliness, always for me.

Life, always for another.

Priestess Of Three Hearts

A woman,
A shrewd lady,
Fair of heart and strong of mind,
Mighty conviction and elegant features.
A loving wife and a better mother.
Torn in three by her three hearts,
Her three secrets,
Her dark trinity.

One heart for her faith,
Intolerant and genocidal as it is.
Her church preaches nothing but hate,
Her holy book preaches distorted lies,
Her priest preaches nothing but rancor.
But she is a pious woman,
She loves her faith.

One heart for her hidden addiction,
Her adoration for absinthe and the needle.
It alleviates the stress of a hard family life.
The absinthe helps her sleep,
The narcotics free her mind,
It lessens the mental trauma,
She loves her hidden addiction.

And one heart for her paramour,
She’s a secret adulteress you know,
Her husband doesn’t truly perform,
He doesn’t satisfy,
Her lover is everything she ever wished for,
He’s caring, sensual and vigorous,
Everything her husband is not.
She loves her paramour.

These three hearts would be a betrayal to anyone else,
They’d be considered sins,
She’d be a bigot, addict and a whore,
But they are what she needs to live,
They get her through the day,
They keep her living and breathing.
Her three hearts beat in secret,
So she can live.